


In Transit

by ticktockclockwork



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Galra bonding, Getting Together, Guide Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sentinel Keith (Voltron), Sentinel/Guide, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29682723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork
Summary: When life planetside got too overwhelming for Keith to handle, he jumped ship and started working for the galaxy's premier delivery service. Staunchly against the idea of bonding with a guide, and unreliant on common suppressants, he took to the quiet of the stars instead, working as a courier for Marmoran Deliveries (Blades, they’re called, for the colored ribbon like particle trails their skip ships leave in space). Keith is content with his current life, lonely but full of sensations, until he’s contracted to a newly formed terran space station named the Atlas. All things considered, it should be like any other contract: jump back and forth between space ports, delivering messages under more secure measures. But things don't always work out like they're expected and Keith quickly find's himself drifting ever further into the orbit of the Atlas' curious captain.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 59





	1. Label Created

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is the La Croix of the Sentinel/Guide universe meaning I got a whiff of it once and ran. I don't know how much this aligns with typical sentinel/guide lore but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Think of it as a mash-up of sentinel/guides/pacific-rim/galra bonding/all that good stuff.

The shrill sound of incoming messages wakes Keith up from his sleep. It feels like he only just crashed but when he blearily slaps around for the clock near his bunk he sees he’s been down for at least six vargas which is longer than he normally sleeps. He groans and turns his face deeper into his pillows, intent on getting another hour and ignoring his messages but his ship has other ideas.

Through the loud speakers all around the ship his non-emergency alarm starts going off - an alarm he did not set, mind you - and steadily grows in volume the longer he ignores it. It’s a game of chicken he’s bound to lose and indeed, after less than a minute of the incessant beeping rapidly rising in pitch, he flips back over onto his back. “Alright, Red alright! I get it, I’m getting up!” He shouts. It isn’t until he sits up and swings his legs off the bunk that the alarm shuts off though. When he takes too long to stand, and the threat of dozing back to sleep becomes ever imminent, Red lurches them sideways, tipping Keith forward off his bunk. He catches himself with a few staggered steps, looking up with a scowl at his ship. “Okay, alright, I’m up I’m up!” The ship rights itself with a gentle hum and Keith shakes his head. “You know, when I dug you out of Sendak’s shipyard, no one thought to warn me you’d come with a personality.” He grumbles as he shuffles out of his bunk, stopping in the doorway to pat the metal wall and lean his forehead against it. “You’re lucky I like you.”

The purr he gets in return assures him the feeling is mutual. 

He receives a cascade of other messages on his comms while he goes about his morning routine, ignoring them in favor of doing his stretches and workout. He can feel his senses opening and pushing at the bubble of his ship and he lets them wander, lets them test the limits of what he’s allowed himself. When he hits the literal vacuum of space and comes back without drifting farther, he finally feels himself relax. He’s sensitized himself to this, to his domain and can exist here now without suppressants or limiters, and he’s thankful for it every day.

“Hey, fuckers.” He greets his team when he finally sinks down into the pilot's chair and pulls on his earpiece and mic. There’s a cacophony of shouts and hellos as the rest of his friends greet him.

“Took you long enough, Pretty Boy.” Lance jabs in, his face coming up on one of Keiths many holo-screens. He’s doused in the ever-present blue light of his ship and there’s crooning jazz coming from somewhere behind him. It’s scratchy so must be some old terran records he’d picked up at their last stop off. “Was worried you’d accidentally flushed yourself out an airlock or something.”

“Don’t you wish.” Keith cuts back with a grin, sweeping his long hair back from his face in a quick braid. “I miss anything?” He asks around the hairband and glances over when Hunk’s face flickers onto another screen.

Hunk, as usual, is puttering around his cabin, rarely one to sit still in the pilot’s chair unless he actually has to navigate. If Yellow could auto-nav him to all his drops, Keith is sure he’d let her. “Nah, just Lance telling us about his wet dreams-”   
There’s a squawk and Keith grins when he looks over and sees Lance has gone flush, looking a bit purple in his blue lighting. “They were not  _ wet  _ dreams! They were perfectly- completely tame!”

“Ugh can we move on, I have enough mental scarring to last me a lifetime from Lance’s night time dalliances.” Emerald flashes and Pidge is up, surrounded by more holo-screens than Keith thinks should fit in her rig. She’s an insomniac though and spends her off hours doing under the table ghost coding for some not so legitimate sources throughout the verse. He thinks if they cracked her noggin’ open they’d find code etched onto the interior of her skull.

Keith chuckles though and mutes Lance as he launches into a tirade about the sanctity of his imagination, turning his chair to face Pidge’s screen. “Where you at today, little bird? Still in my quad?” He asks, pulling up a star chart and scrolling through different parts of his solar system. 

“Nah, jetted out to Griezian Sur to get some upgrades to Green’s hydroponics system. And yes, before you ask Hunk, I did get you a few bushels of swamp berries. They smell like ass though, per usual.” Pidge adjusts her glasses and when she leans back to look over her shoulder, Keith can just make out the shape of three crates shoved in possibly the only free space of her cabin. As always, Pidge’s ship is an envious array of plants and technology, giving her probably the cleanest biome of the four of them. Long green tendrils twist their way up along the walls and grow in and around Greens structures. From the ceiling hang a multitude of water filtration pipes and from the pipes themselves sprout plant after plant after plant. Pidge says it’s the only water she’s able to drink anymore and Keith can’t begrudge her that. Being an S1 with taste as your sensory input is a nightmare and he knows she’s built her self-sustaining garden and filtration system to manage her fugue episodes.

He also knows that it’s a point of pride given how difficult off-world cultivation has been historically and the fact that she did it all herself with shit she’s found at scrap yards is impressive. She knows it too. 

Hunk, a gourmande and overall fantastic Guide, lights up at the mention and nearly swoons as he starts going into all the recipes he’s going to make with them. They have an official name that isn’t swamp berries but Keith has been there when they’ve stopped in to pick some up and there really isn’t a more apt name for them in his opinion. Not only are they found in the swamp, when you break them open they smell like farts. If they weren’t the second best tasting thing this side of Sol, they wouldn’t be worth the trouble. But even for his and Pidges senses, they’re delicious. 

Lance is still ranting about his dreams so Keith leaves him muted and turns back to his screens, marking Pidges general location then pulling up the marker for Hunk. “What about you Hunk?”

“I’m terran side, just above Hawaii.” He replies, shaking the frying pan on his stove. Keith can hear the sizzle of whatever he’s cooking over the buzz of his mic. “Water looks great.” He grins and Keith can’t help but smile back.

Finally he unmutes Lance, speaking over him to cut off his monologue. “And you Romeo?” Lance makes another indignant sound at his unwanted nickname. “Still circling the Princess?” The official name of the ship was The Princess of The Mended Stars, a castle ship belonging to the Altean royal family. It sounded more majestic than it was since it was more floating city than castle but at the right angle and when the sun hit it coming up it still managed to take your breath away. 

Though it had hung where it currently was for the last twenty deca-phobes, at its core it was a travelling city-ship. It had started on a journey of diplomacy across the galaxy ages ago but now acted as a bit of a unified neutral ground for people to meet and plan, for deals to be made, and if you were wealthy enough, for trade to happen. King Alfor was head of the royal Altean family but everyone knew that the Princess was the real frontrunner in making sure everything ran and operated smoothly. It was said princess, Princess Allura, that Lance has been keen on since he’d first laid eyes on her. 

“As a matter of fact, I  _ am  _ still here.” Keith snorts and he hears similar noises from Pidge and Hunk. Lance just sniffs and continues. “Never a shortage of work let me tell you! And ever since the Atlas broke atmos, there’s been a non-stop channel of couriers going back and forth so it’s not like I’ve been sitting on my thumbs or anything.” 

“Oh I heard about that, the Atlas.” Hunk chimes in, coming over more into the camera’s view and eating from a bowl. Whatever it is looks fried and delicious. “She’s the new Terran city ship right? Modeled after The Princess?” 

Lance nods and tosses some images onto their shared visual channel. “Not as beautiful, honestly. Very, 20th century mecha-zoid if you ask me, but impressive. She’s still a bit of a ghost town as they work out all the kinks before bringing more people aboard but she’s pretty impressive.” Lance throws his feet up on his cluttered console, knocking off a few knick-knacks as he continues. “Captained by a one Takashi Shirogane.”

“I’ve read about him.” Pidge now, adjusting her glasses again as she yawns wide. “Top of his class, Earth’s best pilot. Rose through the ranks pretty quick if I remember. Tier 5 Guide.” Keith brings up his picture and raises a brow. He’s not sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this. The cut of the captain’s jaw is clear even in his standard issue Garrison photo and when Keith flips to the next one - a media image from a news release about the launch of Atlas - he can’t help but be impressed by what he sees.

He’s not the only one it seems as Lance lets out a long, cartoonish, whistle. “Man’s built like brick shit house, fuck.” Even Pidge, ever uninterested in the ways of the heart, tilts her head appreciatively. 

“I bet he’s an ass.” She says and Keith let’s out an involuntary laugh. “I mean it! You can’t be that jacked and not be a dick.” She shakes her head and closes the pictures to bring up their job listings. 

Keith rolls his eyes and spins around in his chair to do the same. He hears Hunk speak up from around the spoon in his mouth as he too starts scrolling through bids. “I’m sure he’s nice. You can’t be T5G if you’re an asshole. They test you for that stuff, to see if you’re predisposed to use your abilities to control a sentinel. If there’s even a whiff you might be the dominating type, you’re out.” Hunk’s a tier 3 meaning he can handle up to S3’s of any combination. He’d had some formal training while still back on Earth but found he didn’t much like the regimented nature of the Sentinel programs available to him. The powers that be were incredibly hard pressed to see him leave but he seems to enjoy the freelancing life better than whatever they were offering him. He doesn’t talk too much about it though. Keith understands.

“Alright kids, that’s enough chatter for the morning. What have we got for us today?” And they settle in then, at Keith’s gentle guidance, focusing on work. 

It’s another four, maybe five, quintants before Keith thinks about the Atlas again. They’ve been running all over the galaxy delivering parcels and ferrying secure messages from ship to ship, colony to colony. It’s steady business, especially with all the upheaval that came from Atlas’ launch, and the work keeps them all occupied. 

Marmoran Deliveries was unique in this way. Physical couriers were, predominantly, a thing of the past, lost in the dust of electronic messaging and increased communications. Once Earth had made contact with the rest of the sentient life amongst the stars, interstellar communication exploded. Dedicated message ways were built and people… talked. They learned each others’ language, they learned how to share stories and pictures and laughs and a new era was born. No longer were humans gazing up at the stars and wondering if someone was gazing back. Now they were meeting, learning, growing - together.

Once jump drives were introduced, the delivery industry truly changed. Industrial services still relied on cruisers and huge barges to bring ore and other raw materials across galaxies but small stuff could be delivered in the flash of an eye now. Earth changed entirely from the introduction of this technology, making distance and time nearly a thing of the past. If you could teleport your medication from your pharmacist to your home kitchen with the press of a button, it didn’t matter where you got it from anymore. Accessibility sky rocketed, travel became a luxury everyone could afford, and the world grew. 

And yet, in all of this progress and evolution, there was still a void, a need unmet. The digital age was unstoppable but it wasn’t without it’s skepticism. There was still value in the physical, in the feeling and touching of a thing. Some messages were too precious to risk getting lost across the airwaves, some secrets too dire to fall into the wrong digital hands. Where once paper trails were feared, now they were treasured, a reminder that, yes, indeed, that thing was said, was sent, was whispered. And there was proof. 

That was where the Marmoran Deliveries came in. They advertised as a secure and quick means to deliver any message or parcel but had long gotten the reputation of being the  _ most _ secure and the  _ quickest _ in the universe. They had hubs all over stars with operatives working every corner, from every race, speaking any language. Not every job was life or death but every job had the potential to become so and so they were trained in the art of being swift, of being quiet, and of being safe. No one could match them. 

In the part of space Keith was assigned to, he reported to a man named Kolivan. Kolivan’s hub was one of the largest, composed mostly of nomadic clan-free Galra. Keith had fallen into their circuit after reconnecting with his mother. Pidge had already been under contract with them due to a fortuitous agreement her brother and father had made outfitting them with special tech for their ships. Hunk and Lance had joined shortly after. 

They were a team, and a notorious one at that with their color-coded F3-Line skippers. Quiet kitties, they were more colloquially called, able to hop across galaxies quickly without making much noise. They were also installed with sentience drives, tricky AI that allowed the pilot to form bonds with their ships. It was older tech, developed off-world by a society that predominantly communicated through shared emotions, and couldn’t be handled by everyone. Just like any relationship, compatibility was key and if a pilot couldn’t vibe with their ship then they would have no luck navigating it. Many a story existed of disagreeable pilots being ejected into space by the ships they were manhandling, left alone to the mercy of the stars. 

Red would never do that to Keith. Their bond was strong, perhaps strongest of the four, when he had, literally, dug her from a scrap heap on the shit end of an asteroid field two galaxies over. He’d just joined the company and had been saving all his credits to cobble together his own ship. When he’d found Red, she’d been destined for the incinerator. Her hull was astro-burned beyond repair and all her guts were either corroded or stripped clean. It was her heart, though, that Keith had been after, her sentience drive. The rest was cosmetic, so long as his kitty purred. 

And  _ oh _ how she purred.

Red had since won them both the reputation of being the fastest around, certainly in this galaxy and he would put credit on many galaxies beyond. She traversed the velvet black like she was borne from it and some days Keith isn’t so sure she wasn’t with the way she moves. Flying her was a dream, one he hadn’t known he’d had, and he’d never give her up now. 

It’s this exact reputation that brings him to Kolivan’s hub and in front of the man himself. Keith’s in his typical uniform, mask and all, standing with his arms crossed, looking up at the screen in front of him. His mom is next to him, spinning the holo-map to show him again. “This is where you’ll be picking up the parcel.” Krolia motions to a long landing pad that juts off an elaborate tower-skyscraper. 

“And this is on The Princess?” Keith asks again. “Why are you asking me to do this? That’s Lance’s territory.” 

Kolivan shifts from his position on the other side of Keith. “This job requires a modicum of subtlety, of which Lance has none.” Keith smirks behind his mask. Lance has his talents, but being inconspicuous was not one of them. “You’ll be ferrying a high profile package from the royal family to the new captain of the Atlas, a Captain Shirogane.”

Keith nods, reaching up to turn the map and look at the landing pad from a different angle. “I’ve heard of him, sure. But why am I needing to collect it from here? This is the royal family’s private landing pad. Why wouldn’t I just retrieve it from The Princess’ standard docking bay. I’ve been there plenty of times.” He looks over to Kolivan and watches the man heave a big sigh. 

“What we know is this,” Kolivan says instead, which Keith knows to mean he doesn’t have an answer for the question he asked. “The package needs to be picked up and delivered as discreetly as possible. Stealth is not  _ imperative _ but it would be incredibly appreciated by the Alteans. Princess Allura has requested that we draw as little attention as possible which means no light shows today.” 

Keith purses his lips in disapproval, glad Kolivan can’t see it behind the mask. Nearly all the ships under Kolivan’s employ have a very distinctive feature. When jetting through the stars they leave a ribbon like trail of ion particles behind them. It’s how they got their names, The Blades, because of the razor thin trails they left in their wakes. For most of the ships, their ion trails were black or black with gentle iridescent flakes. Hunk and Pidge had been the masterminds behind their ship's alterations and unlike literally every other ship in Kolivan’s crew, theirs were colored to match their ships. 

Behind Red, Keith left a trail as bright as a collapsing star, a solar flare made real. 

“If you say so.” Keith acquiesces and can hear the sub harmonic chuckle coming from his mother to his right. There’s amusement in her eyes when she glances his way and he is glad, once again, to hide his own smile behind his mask. “Alright so no fireworks, in out, real quiet, am I getting it from the princess herself?”

“No, the king’s advisor is supposed to meet you. He goes by Coran and we’re told you won’t be able to miss him. They sent a bio signature so you’ll need to make sure he’s a match before accepting the parcel.” This was all fairly routine, and while, sure, Lance wasn’t the best at being subtle, this still felt like something he could definitely handle. There was something more here that Kolivan wasn’t saying. 

Keith flicks away the topographical view of the castle-ship and switches it over to a map he’s less familiar with, The Atlas, his destination. “Tell me about the receiver.”

“As I said before, Takashi Shirogane, Captain of the Atlas. You’ll be bringing the parcel to one of their secure loading bays on the sol side of the ship. From what we can gather, this is where more diplomatic visitors dock so it has a higher security clearance with it.”

“Are they expecting me?” Keith asks as he zooms in on the docking sector, studying it’s layout. 

“Yes, you’ll be met by one of his Lieutenants, a Ryan Kinkade. Bio signature was sent for him as well. You are, however, not to deliver the parcel to him. He is just there to escort you to Shirogane who must accept the delivery personally or not at all. You are not, under any circumstances, to hand off the parcel to a second party.” 

Keith turns to face Kolivan fully now, arms crossing over his chest. “Kolivan, what are we getting into here? This sounds like more than a secure dropoff.” Keith has done his share of risky missions, where stealth  _ was _ important, but this felt different. 

“We don’t know what the package is.” Krolia speaks up, drawing her son’s attention over. “But we’ve heard… rumors.”

“What kinds of rumors?” 

Krolia and Kolivan share a look and Keith can tell his mother is waiting for permission before divulging further. When Kolivan gives her a short nod, she continues. “Our sources tell us that the king is sick and that Princess Allura is to take his place if and when he passes.” Keith nods because that’s not really news to anyone. He didn’t know about the king being sick, but Allura’s been running the city-ship for so long it was always going to be her taking his place. “But there’s rumors that there have been attempts made on the princess’ life in the hopes of creating a power vacuum in the event that Alfor passes. An alliance is being discussed, between The Princess and Atlas, to strengthen the security and assure that that power vacuum isn’t filled by unwanted individuals.”

“Why can’t Allura just step up now and take over for her father? Everyone knows she runs the place anyways.”

Kolivan and Krolia share another look and Keith is reminded again of their lives before all this, before he’d ever known his mom. There were wars, many of them, and their history fighting together was showing itself here and now. “We suspect that they feel it is a sign of weakness, admitting Alfor’s declining health. We only know about it because we have feet on the ground there, they’ve kept it very quiet so far. But everyone was a bit skeptical with Atlas’ early launch and they’re worried more questions will be raised if Allura takes her fathers place. No one wants anybody vying for the power until that power is already completely secure.” 

“The Atlas launched early?” Keith asks, surprised he hadn’t known about it. It was true that he didn’t pay the most attention to the going-ons of Earth since he’d left it but he probably should have known about this. 

“Yes, about three phoebs early. It’s why there’s just a skeleton crew there at the moment. I don’t think they were entirely ready to launch but we think Alfor’s health started declining faster than they anticipated. Negotiations needed to start quicker than planned.” 

Keith turned back to the map in front of him, watching the Atlas spin gently in the hologram before him. He heaved a deep sigh, shoulders tense. “Well… shit.”

“Indeed.” 

The three of them lapse into silence after that, caught up in their own thoughts. Marmoran Deliveries was known for its ability to handle tricky missions and this wouldn’t be the first time they’d handled peace talks or war time negotiations. But nothing had come close to this magnitude in Keith’s recent memory and especially not for Keith himself. The risk was high, higher than he’d expected and he could feel nerves sinking deep in his gut. “Are they at least paying us well?” 

Finally Kolivan smiles, a sharp toothed grin that he directs Keith’s way. “Oh yeah.”


	2. Sign Here Please

When Keith lands Red on the castle-ship’s private dock, he does so as quietly as he can. Before he’d hit their self created atmos he’d deactivated his trail and shut off her lights. They were coming in sometime during the night - nearly three in the morning his clock was telling him - so between the jet black exterior and his dimmed coloration, he slid through the dark pretty well. But ships were ships and there were just some things you couldn’t do quietly. Red’s feet touched down as gently as they could, the crunch of metal landing gear against metal runway thankfully muffled by the fortuitous thunderstorm overhead. Keith let their noises settle and squinted out the window of his cockpit, trying to make out any shapes or figures. No one seemed to be running in alarm so he had to assume he’d come in as undetected as possible. “Alright girl, time to go to work.” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to her inner hull before donning his mask and heading out into the rain. 

The sensations of the world around him sink in immediately. His suit is custom built for him, inlaid with inhibitors and suppressants all throughout, and it’s the mask most of all that allows Keith to even function outside his ship. But there is only so much technology can do if you aren’t taking prescriptions so he has to take a moment to breathe and allow his body to acclimate to The Princess’s world. It is noisy and Keith can feel as much as hear every drop of rain hit his suit like a bullet. He feels himself counting them, drifting into the pitter patter of them along his shoulders, chasing the sensations until Red rumbles next to him and brings him back. He sucks in air once, twice, then moves to stand under her wing, shielding himself from the rain so he can finish what he was doing. He can hear different parts of his suit adjusting to his own sentinel patterns to douse the sensations he’s feeling, dampening the sensory inputs he’s receiving from the world around him. It all takes, at most, a few ticks, but Keith counts every single one of them. It’s done when he can listen to the rain and not chase it, when he can stick his hand out and not fall.

Fuck, he hates being planet side. 

But he has a job to do.

He gives Red one last pat then pushes away, hood shielding him from the worst of the rain. He ducks towards the receiving tunnel where he’s supposed to meet his contact, keeping his eyes sharp on his flanks, making sure no one’s coming up in any blindspots. It’s dark along the tarmac and Keith notes that while there are lights built in to guide in descending ships, all of them are off. The overhead light in the tunnel is off too and the ominous feeling in his gut grows stronger.

As he approaches the tunnel, the shape of a man comes into view. Keith slows just a touch to inspect the man but any doubt about his identity is cast aside when the limited moonlight hits his face. He’s standing under a wide dark umbrella and for all intents and purposes should be shrouded in shadow. But the man before Keith has the most orange mustache he’s ever seen on any race, so vibrant it almost seems to glow. “Coran Smythe?” Keith calls out as he nears, stopping one pace before the other.

“Aye, my boy, that’s me. Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!” Keith is painfully reminded of Lance all of a sudden. Coran doesn’t seem to understand subtlety either, and though Keith wants to be annoyed, he can’t help but like him. “Come come, in out of the rain. No sense in you getting soaked!”

Keith steps forward at that and joins him in the tunnel. He doesn’t follow him deeper though until he pulls out his data pad and brings up a small menu. “Before we get started, I need verification.” His voice is distorted through his mask and he can tell it isn’t entirely comforting for Coran but given the gravity of the situation, Keith needs things to be a bit more serious. 

“Anyone tell you those things are dreadfully unsettling?” Coran murmurs good naturedly while he reaches his hand out and presses it to the data pad. Keith doesn’t answer though, and instead watches as Coran winces when his palm is pricked and his blood is scanned. He pulls his hand away, rubbing it and for a moment Keith thinks the jovial mood is gone entirely but not a beat later Coran is looking up with a smile. “Ah well, I can’t begrudge you your aesthetic. I am a connoisseur of style myself, as I’m sure you can tell.” He twists one of his truly majestic mustache ends, giving Keith a keen look. “So I can respect the commitment to the look. If everything is in order, shall we?” 

Keith nods after his data pad beeps in affirmative. Coran’s bio signature matches the one they were sent so Keith slips it back away and follows the man further into the tunnel. “I have to admit, I’ve seen Marmoran couriers out and about in the city before but never worked with them directly. Is it true you call yourselves Blades? Fascinating stuff. You know I once spent a few phoebs with a titillating couple that were very fond of blades just off the cusp of the-”

“Are we nearly there?” Keith asks in what he hopes is a steady voice, not sure he can handle hearing the full extent of whatever story Coran was about to launch into. 

Coran doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort or if he does he takes it in stride. “Of course! Yes, perhaps for another time. Here we are.” They haven't gone far, just to a stack of crates, behind which Coran retrieves a small square case. It isn’t much larger than an envelope but it has depth and judging by the seal and lock around its perimeter, probably contains something important. “This is her!” 

Keith takes the parcel and turns it over to make sure there’s nothing that might come loose on the other side. Satisfied, he tucks it away in his satchel and immediately turns to leave but is stopped when Coran pipes up again. “Oh! I- wow, is that it?” 

Keith half turns back to him and cocks his head. “Was there something else?”

“No, no I just.” Coran steps close to him and speaks ‘surreptitiously’ behind his hand, as if someone might hear. “To be honest this is all very spy versus spy and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe a bit more, pizazz.” He waggles his brows and Keith gives him a deadpanned look that he knows he can’t see. 

“Pizazz costs extra. The princess will receive notification when the parcel has been delivered. Have a good-” Keith peeks out the tunnel again to confirm. “night. Have a good night and please consider Marmoran Deliveries for all your future courier needs.” He turns on his heel then and heads back to his ship.

The whole interaction takes less than ten doboshes but Keith feels every one of them. He feels strung out when he finally sinks into Red’s cockpit, yanking off his hood and mask and starting his ascent. He realizes he’s tense just as they're breaking atmosphere and he’s not sure if it’s because he expected more or expected less. Coran was… a lot. But his personality didn’t jive with the overall feel of this job and that dissonance is rattling for Keith. 

As he sets his course to the Atlas he puts out a hail to the ship he knows is bound to be nearby. “Hey, Lance, you spoken for?”

“All free bay-bee, what can I do for you?” Lance’s voice comes in clear over Keith’s speakers, and he sounds relaxed. 

Last they spoke, Lance said he was going planetside so he must be partaking in his spoils. “I need something slick, nebula smooth. Got any recs?” He flips some switches and swivels in his chair to bring up his back monitors, checking Red’s flanks now that he’s in space to make sure he’s not being tailed.

“You rankled, Red? What’s got you spooked?” 

“Not spooked. Just tired.” He’s defensive though and they both know it. Whatever Lance is enjoying must be very good however because he doesn’t needle.

“Alright, man, I got you. One slip and slide, coming right up.” 

Keith rests his head back against his chair as he hears Lance’s feed cut off and replace itself with music. He doesn’t recognize it and it’s not in terran so it must be something he got offworld but it is indeed smooth, the crooning melodies slowly working their way into his nerves. As he turns away from The Princess of The Mended Stars, he can already feel himself relaxing. 

The journey to the Atlas is longer than it should be but shorter than Keith would like. He listens to Lance’s music the whole way, appreciative that his friend had clued in to his need to be left alone. He’s not bothered during the whole trip. Which is good because he has to focus more than he likes. After the initial departure from the castle-ship, he’d straightened up and taken manual control of Red. Stealth wasn’t a requirement but Keith was on edge enough that he didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention so he drove her manually, minimal lights on, going just fast enough to not be suspicious but not so quick as to draw any eyes. It meant the trip took about three times as long as it needed to, but at least no one caught his scent. 

The Atlas and The Princess were sister ships in their respective galactic neighborhood but that didn’t mean they were close. With Keith’s ship it should reasonably take him some eight to ten vargas if traffic was smooth but with his pace it took him over a quintant. He dozed a bit during it but found sleep eluded him, so he stayed up, stayed vigilant, and listened to Lance’s tunes. 

As he finally crests past Mars’ pull he gets his first glimpse of Atlas’ beauty. It looks like a second moon to his home planet and though he knows it drifts along her gravitational current of it’s own design, he can’t help feeling like there’s a tide pulling him in. She’s… well she’s stunning and all the pictures he’s looked at haven’t done it justice. Just as he’s coming around her flank he gets a face full of sunlight and has to pull down Red’s visors but it does nothing to diminish Atlas’ glow. She’s white and black and orange and  _ beautiful _ . 

He takes a moment to appreciate her, sitting idle off her right side. He watches little terran ships come in and out her many ports, shooting off to other space stations or back down to earth. There’s a flurry of activity all around her and where some ships might look like a kicked anthill with it, she looks like a solar system. Atlas, the sun, the weight of the system on her shoulders. 

He doesn’t let himself linger long, though. Afterall, he has a job to do. So after he catches his breath, he banks right and makes his way around her side until he sees the port he’s looking for. It doesn’t appear much different from the others but there is much less traffic on this side of the ship and as he gets close he’s hailed from the traffic operators down below.

“This is Atlas landing crew, repeat Atlas landing crew, requesting credentials and purpose please.” The spiel sounds like it’s muscle memory for this operator. 

“Marmoran Delivery services with a package for the captain. Sending paperwork through.” He returns, bringing up the appropriate documentation and sending it down to them. It all says that he’s supposed to be there and that he’s got clearance to land, as approved by the captain himself. But because Keith can’t help himself he adds “I’m expected.” 

There’s a silence as the operators read over his credentials before they crackle back over his comms. “Permission to land, courier. Please make your way to terminal G22 and disembark. Your escort will meet you there. Will you be in need of fuel?” 

“No.” 

“Very well. Welcome to the Atlas, we hope you enjoy your stay.”

Keith hears the distinctive click of a communication channel shutting off and shakes his head. So perfunctory. He does as asked though and guides his ship gracefully around to the designated terminal, moving smoothly into the hangar and setting her down nice and neat. He feels Red purr under his hands as she feels the ship under her feet and he can’t help but feel as though she’s pleased by something. “Alright, down girl. I know she’s pretty.” Red rumbles in his consciousness and he chuckles. “Not as pretty as you though.” 

Before he exits he pulls up his hood and puts on his mask, knowing the activity of the Atlas will be overwhelming without. It certainly won’t be anything as bad as The Princess was but it is still a hive of activity and more than enough to shred Keith senseless if he lets it. 

But as he steps out of Red’s hull and sets his feet on the floor of the hangar, he’s not bombarded like he’s expecting. He feels the push on his own senses but they’re far from overwhelming and just as his brow begins to furrow up in confusion, he’s interrupted by someone approaching. 

It catches him off guard and he doesn’t like it.

“Are you the courier from Marmoran Deliveries?” The man is dark skinned and tall, decked out in a crisp uniform with a number of chest and shoulder decorations that tell his rank in a language Keith never bothered to learn. He spies a little nametag though - Kinkade - and approaches his escort. 

“Yes, courier Kogane.” They don’t shake hands. Instead, nearly simultaneously, they hold out data pads and Keith can see his bio signature is going to be verified just the same as Kinkade’s. For some reason that puts him a little at ease. Protocol can do that. He presses his hand to the screen just as Kinkade does and pulls it away a moment later after his blood is drawn. There’s a brief moment while they both wait for their respective all clears but then Kinkade is turning to him, and giving him a nod. 

“Follow me.” He’s no-nonsense and Keith likes that. His interaction with Coran was bewildering, feeling almost comical with its subterfuge and meeting in the dead of night. This feels standard. Definitely more secure, judging by the amount of bio locked doors Kinkade walks them through, but standard. His escort doesn’t talk to him and Keith is glad for that too. He’s not one for small talk anyways so silence suits him just fine. But he does catch Kinkade looking his direction every now and then, scanning his suit, his mask. He’s not sure what he reads but whatever it is must satisfy the other as he doesn’t ask any questions or pry. 

They ascend a couple floors in one elevator, cross between some halls, then continue up in a different lift. Keith gets looks from most of the people passing by but nothing lingers. It seems the crew of the Atlas know when to mind their own business. Keith doesn’t love how exposed they feel but nothing has made him feel  _ unsafe  _ so he continues along quietly. 

When they finally stop, they do so in front of an impressive set of double doors. Kinkade keys them in and they open into what is probably considered the captain’s wing. There are less people here but the ones that are are clearly higher up the Atlas food chain. They move with purpose and don’t give Keith a second glance. Kinkade cuts them down a long hallway lined with meeting room after meeting room before stopping in front of one that has an open door. He knocks politely on the door frame then steps in.

Keith can hear voices from inside but isn’t quite able to make out what they’re saying from out here. If he dropped the dampening on his mask he’d have no trouble but then he’d run the risk of being overwhelmed so he just waits. It’s not for long because after a moment Kinkade sticks his head back out and beckons to him. “You can come in. The captain will see you now.”

Keith steps into the office and is briefly overwhelmed.

The whole back wall of the room is windows overlooking what appears to be the eastern coast of Africa. The seams between the glass are nearly invisible giving it the impression of being non-existent, like you could step right out of the room and into space. The room itself is spacious with a sizable desk near the window but the majority of it is taken up by an oval table, larger than Keith's bed. It looks like there had just been a meeting in here not long ago because there are papers and folders scattered around various chairs. But right now the room is empty save himself, Kinkade and the captain.

And much like the ship, photos did not do Captain Shirogane justice. 

The man before him is, true to Lance’s words, built like a brick shit house. He stands a good foot or so over Keith and has all the dimensions of Keith’s best imagination. Broad shoulders, a trim waist, Keith isn’t certain how his suit stays buttoned, but it does and it looks  _ good _ . Keith’s mouth is dry. 

Then the man smiles and something clicks. The gentle buzzing around Keith’s ears cease and he feels, just briefly, his shoulders relax. Before he can suss out what happened, he watches the captain stride forward and hold out his hand. “Hello, welcome to the Atlas. I’m Takashi Shirogane.”

Keith shakes his hand automatically even though the action has become foreign to him. The Blades don’t shake hands. But he feels compelled to do so and the captain’s hand is large, firm, eclipsing Keith’s own gloved one, though Keith can’t look away from the man’s face. It feels overwhelming and settling and confusing. Keith feels like he’s been blindsided but he doesn’t know what from. 

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh but his mask distorts his voice and it makes it sound clipped, impatient. But rather than grow irritated, the captain almost looks chagrined. 

“Of course, yes. I’m sure it’s in the, ah, job writeup.” He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. Keith tracks the movement and doesn’t realize he’s staring until Shiro nods to Kinkade. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I can take it from here. I’ll buzz when he’s ready to be escorted back.” Kinkade gives his captain a semi formal salute before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

A silence descends and Keith watches the captain. There’s something about him that’s arresting Keith, but he can’t put his finger on it. And it seems, perhaps, the feeling is mutual because the captain takes a long moment studying him as well before he shakes himself out of it and motions towards a drink cart setup near a wall. “Can I get you something? I know the trip from The Princess can be long.” He’s polite and warm and open and not at all what Keith was expecting.

“No.” and then because he’s not a fucking animal he tacks on a quiet “thank you.” He shuffles uncertainly for another moment before coming to his senses. He has a job to do, one he is stalling for some reason, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it. He takes three quick measured steps forward then digs in his bag. He almost pulls out the parcel itself before remembering protocol and withdraws his data pad instead. He holds it out with the scanner in place and waits. 

Captain Shirogane stares down at it for too long, not quite comprehending. Keith wonders how often he actually has to have his bio-registry verified. Keith doubts anyone would question the validity of his presence, not now that he’s met him. On the Atlas he probably doesn’t have to worry about anyone pretending to be him, doesn’t have to worry about being mistaken for anyone else. When he enters a room, Keith has no doubt everyone knows exactly who he is.

But Keith has to check. “It’s a bio-scanner. You place your hand on it to verify your identity.” Keith explains, trying for patient but not knowing if it comes out that way. 

“Oh! Of course, right yes.” Another embarrassed flush rises on the captain’s cheeks and there’s a moment where he lifts his right hand first before abruptly switching it to his left. As he places his left hand on the sensor and activates the scanner, Keith looks down to his right. He’s surprised to see that instead of flesh the captain’s right hand is metal. The aborted movement was involuntary as if he’d forgotten you can’t bio-scan a prosthetic and Keith wonders now how long he’s had it that he forgot that. 

“There we go. All set?” Keith turns his head to see the screen flash green. Bio’s are a match. He gives a jerky nod then tucks the data pad away and withdraws next the little parcel he’d been given a day ago.

As he hands it over their fingers brush, flesh hand to gloved, and Keith can’t stop himself from yanking back as if shocked. Because it feels exactly like that, like a live wire shot down his spine and embedded itself directly into his core. 

“Are you all right?” 

Keith tilts his face up and sees only concern in the captain’s expression. It doesn’t immediately seem like he felt anything at all, at least nothing akin to what Keith felt, but there is something in his gaze, some question lingering, unasked. 

He felt something too.

“I-” Keith straightens back up, measuring his breaths and getting himself back under control. His heart is racing and he can’t fathom why, especially as the zing down his spine simmers into something warmer, deeper, calm. Before he knows it it’s gone all together and for a moment he wonders if he’d imagined it entirely but, no, he’d felt something for sure. “Yes.” He breathes, staring hard at the man in front of him. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Keith gets the impression that the captain to want to press more but then remembers the parcel in his hands. He looks at it like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it and Keith waits a breath before speaking up again. “Will you be sending a return message, sir?” Keith asks, proud that his voice doesn’t shake.

“Huh?” The captain looks up and Keith wonders if maybe he felt more than he’s letting on. “Oh, no, uh, no thanks, not right now. If I do, I’ll put in another request.” 

Keith nods then takes a step back. “If that is all then thank you for using our services and we hope you look to Marmoran Deliveries for your future courier needs.” 

He steps back and turns to leave the room, needing to get out of there. He feels unsettled, shaken, even more than he had back on The Princess, and he’s not sure if Lance’s music suggestions will help this time. But just as he’s reaching the door he hears the captain speak up again from behind him.

“Wait!” There’s a pause as Keith turns back to him, waiting. “What’s… what’s your name?”

Keith holds his breath, staring at the other man, studying him. He doesn’t know this person, doesn’t trust him for all the authority he holds. And yet, it’s like he can’t stop himself as he says “Keith. Keith Kogane.”

Then he turns and leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't @ me about how long things are supposed to take flying through space, I'm not a rocket scientist, I just like writing about boys falling in love.
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_zzs_top) <3


	3. Pick-up Available

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mama mia, here I go again. My my, how could I resist you~

“Hunk, where are you?” 

Keith’s voice trembles as he hails his friend over their secure comms network. He’d departed the Atlas a few doboshes ago but he still feels like a live wire, like he’s about to rattle out of his skin. He hasn’t even taken his mask off yet and as he turns Red around to direct her away from the ship, he can feel her concern in the gentle banking of her form. She’s trying to be soft for him, can sense his distress.

She’s not the only one. “Hey Keith, yeah, just coming around Mars as we speak. What’s wrong?” 

What  _ is _ wrong? Keith has to pause before answering because he honestly doesn’t know. He’s shaken and there’s  _ something _ that’s taken root at the core of him but he can’t fathom what it is or why this job, of all his jobs, is getting so under his skin. Without an answer he says instead “I, nothing, I’m fine. Just a shaky departure.” Red rumbles at his bald-faced lie, both because it isn’t true, and because it implies she was flying anything but perfect. He ignores her though. “You got dinner plans? I can meet you somewhere, I’m not far, just leaving Atlas now.” 

There’s a momentary silence and Keith wishes he could see Hunk’s face to know what he’s thinking. He’s not as transparent as Lance but he’s not one to try and hide his emotions either so he’s usually easy to read. At least around his friends. It’s hard to do that over voice only channels though and Keith thinks he’s probably trying to figure out what Keith is lying about given it wasn’t a very convincing one. If he’s going to dig into it, though, it seems that he wants to do it in person because he gives Keith his coordinates and they agree to meet up. 

When Keith steps off Red and onto Yellow, he holds then releases a deep breath. They’ve docked up on the near side of Mars and the view is a pretty one, all twinkling lights and rusty earth, their ships overlooking the bustling colonies riddling the side of the red planet. Red and Yellow get along splendidly and Keith leaves them to their gossip as he slides down the connection shaft into Yellow’s hold. 

Not for the first time he’s impressed by her spaciousness. Hunk is a big guy, both in body and personality, and built Yellow to suit that part of himself. She’s wide and solid, strong, and unlike Pidge, isn’t stuffed full of things. Her interior is decorated modestly, mostly with photos of Hunk’s extended family still back on earth. As Keith ducks under a doorway and enters the main living area of the ship, he lays eyes on where Hunk has put most of his money. The main belly of Yellow opens to the cockpit as well and while Keith can see her controls and front window clearly overlooking Mars, it’s the decked out kitchen unit that really draws his eye. 

Commanding the majority of Yellow’s interior is a bank of burners and stove tops all filled with a smattering of different pans and cooking utensils. Something is already frying in the wok Hunk has over the hot flame and on the large island structure there’s a mess of ingredients cut up and waiting for their turn in whatever recipe he’s making. A small table folds out from the wall, along with a few chairs, and Keith feels, as he always does when he visits Yellow, a little like he’s come home.

Hunk just has a way about him.

It certainly helps that he has tier 3 status because just as Keith feels his senses starting to ratchet up from the overwhelming scents wafting from the kitchen, Hunk is there pressing into his mind and tamping everything down. Smell drops first, into something nice and manageable. Taste is next, so closely tied to smell, and then it’s touch and Keith feels the bristling of his shirt drift back into comfortable and soft. The small bracelet on his wrist beeps a few times as it too kicks in, now able to handle the rest of his senses and bit by bit Keith returns to his baseline normal. 

He smiles, eyes closed, and opens his arms for the hug he knows Hunk wants to give. “C’mere big guy.” 

He’s swept off his feet as Hunk lifts him in the air, crushing him in his arms. He can’t help but emit a small, wheezing laugh, because it hasn’t been  _ that _ long since they’ve seen each other in person. But it doesn’t matter to Hunk. “Hey man, it’s so good to see you.” He says as he finally puts him back on his feet and when Keith opens his eyes, it’s to Hunk’s blinding smile. “How’s it feel, everything five by five?” 

Keith stretches out his senses and finds them comfortable, reduced. Hunk has smell, taste, and touch under gentle wraps and his sight and hearing are being managed by the bracelet well enough that he knows there’s no risk of a fugue episode. It’s not perfect but it’s the best he can do without an S5 guide or full suppressants. He doesn’t dream of complaining, though. “Five by five.” He confirms, smiling and following Hunk into the kitchen.

As a sentinel, and an S5 level at that, Keith’s life has always been tricky. After his father died (and before he ever knew his mother) he went into the system, trucking from one foster family to another until his abilities started manifesting in his early teens. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to be a manageable s1 he left the foster system and was reclaimed by the state. By thirteen he was enrolled at one of the Garrison’s local academies and started training to get his abilities under control.

It was… bad.

What started as just sight quickly clocked up to taste, then touch. Soon, he wasn’t able to eat anything and crowds were overwhelming. Once he picked up scent they had to increase his suppressant dosage and finally, after he got hearing as well, they started looking for a guide to pair him up with. At the time he was open to it. Fairly non-functional without heavy suppressants, the idea of working with a Guide to keep him in control was a welcome relief. But the reality of the situation changed when he actually tried bonding with someone. 

It was a nightmare. His mind refused the bond and overcompensated for it by nearly shutting down. He lost a week to an in-and-out fugue state that the Garrison personnel struggled to pull him from. Even when they brought in experienced guides, they found his resistance to  _ any _ bond, even temporary, made the process near impossible. But he was an S5 and that was important,  _ valuable,  _ so they found someone strong enough to push through Keith’s barriers and pull him from his state.

Keith felt violated and while he understood the necessity in it - he would most likely have died in that state if he hadn’t been retrieved - the idea of a sentinel-guide partnership was so sour to him that he refused any other offers. They continued to try, of course, because S5’s were rare and when well partnered could do amazing things. But the absolute wrongness of having some unknown guide in his head, linked to him so intimately, made him absolutely unresponsive to any of their tests or trials. 

His mind wouldn’t take to anyone, and his belligerence grew. 

When his mother found him, he was about to be expelled. He had proved himself to be more trouble than he was worth and given he refused any guide, they had to keep him on incredibly high suppressants, dampening him into something near useless. Keith didn’t care that they couldn’t use him for his abilities but he did fear life outside the Garrison walls. When Krolia found him and promised him relief free from suppressants, he left and never looked back. 

It wasn’t easy from there either but it was better. Krolia was unfamiliar with what Keith was describing. Sentinels and guides weren’t a part of her race, but some other things were close enough that she started to understand. Keith came to learn that Galran culture took bonded and mated pairs quite seriously and given his half-bred nature, might be why the idea of bonding with a guide simply for the convenience was so unpalatable. 

Galra bonded and mated for life and to do so recklessly was unheard of. Severing a bond was incredibly painful as was an unrequited bond. So it was no surprise to Krolia that Keith so viscerally refused having some stranger in his mind. 

So it took time, but they did eventually figure out a way to modify his dampeners into tech that he could live with every day. She helped him build his suit, his mask, his bracelets. When he met Hunk and Pidge and Lance, they worked together to help him build his ship and eventually he was able to exist, free from suppressants, happy in the stars. 

Now, he’s able to do things like this. He’s able to meet his friends for dinner, able to do so with minimal tech, and not feel overwhelmed. He doesn’t bond with Hunk fully but he trusts him enough to let him in and help, temporarily. And it does help, it helps him feel normal, feel relaxed, feel like life doesn’t start and end with his abilities. And when he puts a bite of Hunk’s food in his mouth, he’s thankful for it all over again.

“Holy shit, Hunk.” He groans, resting his cheek on the cool metal of the tabletop as he chews the bite of food. It’s a stir-fried rice dish with little chunks of meat and eggs and a whole mess of vegetables and it’s the best thing he’s eaten in ages. Like Pidge, he generally has an incredibly controlled diet made up of foods that won’t send his senses into a downward spiral, but with Hunk managing things for him he can eat anything and this is heavenly. 

Hunk, for his part, just laughs. “Good?” When Keith lifts his head Hunk is smirking like he knows exactly how good it is. “I’m glad you like it. Is it good enough to tell me what the fuck was wrong with you earlier?” He shoves more food in his mouth but gives Keith a pointed look and Keith knows a loss when he sees one.

He sits up and sighs, pulling his bowl close and petulantly eating a few more bites to delay the inevitable. It isn’t that he’s afraid of being open with Hunk, it’s just that he’s frustrated because he doesn’t actually  _ know _ what was wrong earlier. For all intents and purposes everything went off without a hitch. No one tried to kill him or steal his parcel, no one gave him grief when picking up or dropping it off, he didn’t have to even take off his mask. Things went smooth. But he still feels unsettled, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. 

“I met the captain of the atlas.” And it’s not what he means to start with but it’s what comes out anyways. 

“Like… the captain captain? Brick shit house captain?” 

“The only and only.” 

“Fuck, how was he? Don’t tell me he was an asshole, Pidge will never let me live it down.” 

Keith snorts and shakes his head, looking down to push some food around his bowl. “No he was nice, like you predicted. Polite, egregious, welcoming.” Beautiful.

“So what’s the problem?”

Keith huffs now and throws up his spoon-holding hand. “That’s the thing! I don’t know! But I feel fucking tilted man, sideways, and I don’t know why.” 

“And you feel this way because you met the captain?”

“Yes?” A beat. “No? Fuck I don’t know. The job went clean, I wasn’t given any trouble, I don’t know why I’m so shook.”

“Maybe you thought it would be worse than it was and when it wasn’t you’re left waiting for the other shoe to drop?” Hunk suggests, getting up to serve seconds to them both. “Like your fight or flight instinct was activated but never turned off because nothing happened?”

Keith sighs and digs into the bowl for the largest chunk of Spam he can find. “Maybe” But it doesn’t feel like apprehension, like something unresolved. It feels different, deeper, and definitely - though he doesn’t want to admit it - because of Takashi Shirogane. He  _ felt _ something there, and he knows the captain felt something too, but being unable to put a name to it is frustrating. He wishes it was just what Hunk’s describing, that waiting for the other shoe to drop feeling. But it’s not and he doesn’t like it. 

There’s silence again as Hunk gives him space for his thoughts. When it’s clear Keith doesn’t intend to talk anymore, Hunk prods a bit further. “What did it feel like, then? If you can’t name it, describe it.” That’s the guide training talking and they both know it but Hunk’s so good about it, about being careful and considerate, that it doesn’t raise Keith’s hackles like it might with someone else. 

And because they’re friends Keith plays along. He sets the bowl down and closes his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like. He’s done this before, in his own short lived training. The exercise was meant to build self-awareness and mindfulness. Sentinels so easily slipped away from themselves when chasing their sensations, but if they could build up a strong sense of self, it might save them just a little bit longer before dropping into the fugue. 

What had he felt, when he’d met the captain? Surprise, by his good looks, by his physique. Apprehension because he was a man with a considerable amount of power. Curiosity because he was so open and warm despite that. But that’s not the feelings he needs to be examining. Those he understands. He lets himself drift deeper, trying to remember the moment, the exact moment, when their hands touched. 

He felt like he’d been seen.

The realization is distasteful and Keith wants to pull away from it but more than anything, and the more he thinks on it, that’s precisely what it was. It wasn’t his good looks, it wasn’t his status, it wasn’t his openness, it was that when their hands touched - their real hands - Keith felt like the captain could see everything. Past the mask, past the suit, beyond the limiters and the emotional walls. Takashi Shirogane could see to the very core of him, and Keith has no idea what he saw. 

He blinks open his eyes and meets Hunk’s knowing gaze before looking away. He doesn’t voice what he’s thinking but it doesn’t matter. The exercise wasn’t for Hunk’s benefit but it’s clear his friend can tell it worked. Whether for good or for bad, it worked. 

“Did you see the game last week? The Astros killed it in the final inning.” 

And they move on. Hunk doesn’t press and is kind enough to give Keith a conversational out, something neutral enough that it’s easy to dive into. Keith doesn’t give a shit about baseball but he can play along until it feels normal again, until talking doesn’t feel like the first step before admission. 

They finish their servings of stir fry and Hunk boxes up the leftovers for Keith to take and things are normal, absolutely normal. And as they fall into step shootin’ the shit around the dessert Hunk has whipped up, Keith absolutely does not think about the captain of the Atlas, and what it means to feel seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Writing the dynamics between Keith and his crew is one of my favorite things to do so I'm pretty fond of this chapter. I've mapped this story out in a more 'formal' manner so you'll notice now that there is a working chapter count! That might change as this story expands or contracts but as it stands we're looking at about 13 chapters. I'm trying to space them so I don't burn myself out (hence the gap between posting this chapter and the last) but rest assured this story lives in my head constantly and will be finished. 
> 
> As always, I'm using the Sentinel/Guide universe as a sort of... guideline and taking tons of creative liberties with it so if you're a diehard Sentinel tv show fan, don't @ me. 
> 
> Also I 100% believe spam will still be delicious in the distant future. You can pry that canned meat from my cold dead fingers.
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_zzs_top)!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_zzs_top) <3


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